


Take A Picture

by Jamjar88



Category: Foo Fighters, Nirvana (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26176111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jamjar88/pseuds/Jamjar88
Summary: This is a request I got on Tumblr for a Dave Grohl/Reader fic.It's set at the start of Dave’s first tour with Nirvana, inspired by an article I read about his time in London experiencing jet-lag, fried toast and all the joys of touring...
Relationships: Dave Grohl/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 10





	Take A Picture

_Just two more hours, two more hours, you got this_ , you thought as you wiped the sticky plastic tablecloth for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. The cool October light filtered through the foggy windows of the cafe and made everything seem even bleaker, you hated the early start of the breakfast shift but it was the only job that made sense around your afternoon and evening classes. It had been a slow morning, just the usual stragglers from last night’s revelries, and a few construction workers coming in for a cooked breakfast. You scanned the cafe to see if your few customers needed anything, but they were all absorbed in their food or drinks. Turning back to your spot by the cash register, you heard the sound of the bell over the door and thought, goddamnit. You had been looking forward to a quiet moment to look over your sheet music for the rehearsal later.

“Hey, can I get a table for one?”

The American voice took you by surprise, in your rundown corner of west London you didn’t hear it very often. You looked up and saw a kind of tall, lanky guy with long centre-parted dark-brown hair hanging limply past his shoulders, dark circles under huge dark puppy dog eyes. He was wearing a black roll-neck sweater and dirty jeans, was running a hand through his hair, looking like he needed coffee pretty bad. 

He looked about as out of place in the shitty cafe as you could get. He was also ridiculously cute, and you couldn’t believe your luck.

You stammered, “Um, yeah of course. Wherever you want.” He gave you a thumbs up and took the table by the window. You quickly grabbed a menu from the rack and went over.

“Thanks.” He took it and immediately said, “Uh, could I get some black coffee?”

“Of course.” You decided to be daring even though you would usually rather die than make small talk with customers. “Rough night?”

He laughed, and you had to smile because he had such a cute goofy laugh that showed his prominent teeth and lit up his whole face. So cute. Oh no. “That obvious?”he said, grinning at you and making you almost blush. “I just got here from the States a couple days ago and I don’t even know what day it is anymore.”

“Coffee it is then,” you said, returning his smile and feeling your heart beat faster. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“Thank you.”

You quickly went to make some coffee, glancing over at the dark-haired guy and wondering what his story was. He was probably about your age, maybe a little older, his body language was a little shy as he sat hunching his long body behind the little table, his long fingers fingering the menu as he stared at it. Just then he looked over, putting the menu down and you poured out a mug of coffee and took it over, setting it in front of him and grabbing your notebook and pen from your apron pocket. 

“What can I get you then?”

“I think I’ll try the full English, y’know - when in Rome,” he said, a slight sparkle in his dark eyes. 

“You do know this is London, not Rome, right?” you said, returning his mischievous expression and he rewarded you with another big grin. Flirting was not usually like you at all but there was just something about this guy.

“No way man. I’m gonna have to call my band, that’s gonna mess up our schedule pretty bad, I think we were supposed to be in Milan tomorrow,” he said, deadpan. You giggled. Funny as well as cute. Also, that accent. You scribbled his order on your notepad and took the menu.

“You’re in a band, that’s cool.”

“I mean, _they’re_ cool, I’m just the drummer,” he said ironically. “But yeah. We’re starting a tour here this week, it’s gonna be pretty fucking awesome if I can ever get on London time.”

“I recommend coffee. And try and just stay up all day, walk around. I mean, I work early mornings and nights so I know how it is.”

“Yeah, I’ve just been kind of lying in a darkened room watching crazy British quiz shows since I got here. It’s not what they told me rock n roll was gonna be, at all,” he quipped and you smiled at each other. At that moment a cantankerous old man sitting at the corner table coughed loudly to get your attention and you snapped back to work mode. 

“I’ll, um, go get your food,” you said, going over to take the other customer’s plate and passing the order to the chef. As you waited for it to be ready, you noticed that the American guy was reading a beaten up London guide book that looked about ten to fifteen years out of date. When his food came through, you carefully carried it over and set it down, he smiled gratefully. pausing, you said- “Can I make a suggestion?’

“Sure,” he said quizzically.

I motioned to his book on the table. “Guide books are awful, especially when they’re from the early seventies. I’m happy to give you some recommendations, erm… if you want,” you added shyly. 

“That’s real nice of you. That’d actually be great, or…”

He tailed off and I raised an eyebrow. 

“Uh, so, disclaimer: feel free to tell me to take a hike or you’re busy or whatever - but if you know what’s good, maybe you could show me around a little?”

Your mouth slightly dropped open and you closed it quickly, wondering how this shitty morning could have possibly taken such a turn for the best. He bit his lip and you immediately noticed how full and soft his lips looked, no, don’t think about that right now. “No pressure, of course, I’m sure you have better shit to do than hang out with a jet lagged obnoxious American-“

“No!” You cut in immediately, and saw his big dark eyes light up. “I’d love to. I finish at 10, but I can meet you after.”

“Sounds good. Uh, I’m Dave by the way.”

“I’m y/n.”

“Hi.” He smiled, looking you deep in the eyes, and you felt yourself blushing, which he totally noticed.

“Promise you’re not a serial killer, Dave?”

He cracked up, shaking his head. “No serial killer tendencies whatsoever, I promise I am incredibly boring.”

“Good.” You looked down at his plate of slowly cooling food. “Well, bon appetit. I’ll let you eat.” You turned, barely concealing your excitement, when he said-

“Hey, y/n?” You turned around quickly. “Thanks, I really appreciate this.”

You nodded with a smile and went about your job, clearing the tables and tidying up while he finished his food. The cafe was empty by the time he was done, and you were glad because you just wanted to talk to Dave some more. He was sitting back in the rickety old chair, his big feet clad in beaten up black Chucks crossed at the ankle under the table. He smiled as you approached.

“Did you enjoy?” you asked, noting that he had cleaned his plate of every scrap. For a skinny guy he could definitely eat.

“How are all British people not obese? That was, like, a religious experience or something. I never even thought of fried toast before.”

You giggled. “It’s true, we survive solely on full English breakfast and cups of tea,” you teased.

“I could get into that.”

“So can I bring you anything else, or..?”

“Uh, no, I’m good. I guess I’ll just get the check then run back to my hotel and shower, is that cool?”

You said sure and cleared the stuff away, brought him back the check and he fumbled in his jeans pocket, coming up with a massive handful of change and crumpled notes, which seemed to be a mix of English and American money that he started combing through. “I’m a disaster, sorry. Did I mention I’m sleep deprived?” He quipped, sighing cutely and you put your hand out to sort the right coins for him, accidentally brushing your fingers against his in the process. When you touched you immediately felt a buzz, “Oh I’m sorry,” he said, taking his hand away and glancing at you shyly.

“No, no, that’s alright, I was just - it’s five pounds fifty. Here.” You picked up the right change from the pile and he smiled gratefully.

“Can I tip you?”he asked and you shook your head. “OK, can I buy you lunch?”

“Definitely.”

There was more of a charged atmosphere between you now and you wondered if he felt it too. 

He scraped back his chair and got up, running his hand through his long hair in a way you found strangely sexy. “I’ll meet you at ten? Here, or..?”

“Here’s good.”

Your eyes met when you stared up at him and again there it was, that buzz.

“Have a good rest of your shift.” He put out his hand, and you took it, feeling his firm grip and how it made your heart race. You shook hands, and both laughed as it all seemed so random, but there was definitely something here. Grinning bashfully he loped to the door and as it rang when he opened it, he said, “see you soon.”

The rest of the shift flew by with no more customers but it still couldn’t come soon enough. You took off your apron and hung it up by the register, as you chatted to your co worker who had come to take over the next shift. Your tiredness and malaise from earlier was completely forgotten, though you wished you had a mirror or something to check how you looked. You practically skipped out of the cafe only to be confronted with the sight of Dave, looking fresh, his long dark hair drying in a low ponytail that showed off his great bone structure and made his huge dark eyes seem even more arresting. He was wearing a zipped up hooded sweatshirt now with jeans and wearing a beaten up backpack, and you noticed his tall, slim frame which was exactly your type. You both smiled and said hey and as you zipped up your coat against the October chill you asked, “So what kind of thing do you want to do?” You were expecting him to say something touristy like Buckingham Palace or the British Museum.

“Well, in the spirit of full disclosure, I am a music nerd and there’s one thing I gotta do before the guys realise I am a complete hack and fire me from the band and take some other drummer to Europe instead.”

You smiled, confused and he grinned bashfully. “You know Led Zeppelin?”

They were one of my dad’s favourite groups, but I had never really gotten into them. “Sort of.”

“OK, so that band literally changed my life. They made me want to play rock and roll, John Bonham, he’s the drummer, is just- oh man-“ He broke off, laughing at himself and you smiled encouragingly, he was so cute talking about this which was clearly his passion. Shaking his head, he rolled up his sleeve to show you a slightly rudimentary tattoo of three circles on his arm. “I did this myself when I was like fifteen years old, it’s the symbol from Bonham’s drum set, so…” He rolled his sleeve back down quickly. “Uh, well anyway I’m kind of a crazed fan and when we were doing our first show in New York I saw a photograph of the band hanging out on this street in London with this badass car, just looking so fucking cool and I just wanna go there and get a photo with my shitty Polaroid and completely embrace the fact that I’m _that_ guy.”

You laughed out loud. He was so cute you could hardly stand it. “OK, so do you know where this famous photo was taken?”

“It’s a place called Windmill Street in, uh- Soho?”

You knew it, it was where you sometimes went vintage shopping. “Well, let’s do it! We need to get a bus, it’s just this way.”

You both started walking towards the bus stop and he said, “So tell me something about you. You’re from here?”

You nodded. “Born and raised. I’m actually studying music at the Academy.”

“Get outta here! You’re a musician!?”

“I play piano. Classical mainly.”

He whistled. “That’s rad. I literally don’t even read music, I’m a neanderthal. I play a little guitar too, but again, self-taught.”

“I won’t hold it against you,”you smile. “Sounds like you’re doing pretty well though if your band is touring in Europe?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I actually just joined for this tour, I got real lucky. I was playing in another band that broke up and a friend of mine hooked me up with them, they had a record out already which was doing pretty well and as soon as I heard it I was like, I gotta play with these guys. And it just worked out.”

“What’s the band called?”

“Nirvana.”

You wrinkled your nose a little and he laughed. “Hey, be nice.”

“Very 1960s.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Just then the bus arrived and you got on, choosing seats on the top deck so you could show Dave all the sights going by. The bus route took you right through the city centre and you enjoyed watching him take it all in, occasionally taking a Polaroid camera out of his backpack to snap pictures. “Such a tourist, I’m sorry,” he said with a self deprecating grin. You chatted about your music tastes, about Dave’s band and how he had moved from Washington DC to Seattle recently to be with his new band. He said Seattle was a lot like England - rainy and full of pissed off people, and you said you’d have to go there and see for yourself someday at which he said, “Well, I owe you a favour Ms. Tour-guide, so you’ll have to look me up.” At this your heart did a somersault since you were growing to like him more and more. He was just so funny, light hearted and down to earth and so different to all the pretentious guys at the Academy.

The bus trip flew by and you pulled the handle to request your stop. “This is us,” you said and he followed you off the bus, stepping out into the bustling central London street. The area was a curious mix of sex shops, tourist traps, vintage stores and quaint Victorian architecture and Dave seemed very excited to look around. You walked through the winding back streets until you reached the street where Dave’s favourite photograph of Led Zeppelin had been taken and smiled as he exclaimed in unashamed excitement, recognising the architecture.

“OK, you officially rock,” he told you, grabbing his camera. “i think it was.. right here.” He struck an exaggerated pose leaning on one hip and you stepped back to take the picture, admiring his tall physique and handsome face. You pressed the button and after a moment the picture came out, you held it out and he examined it, looking genuinely excited.

“I’m a happy Zeppelin fan right now.”

“Glad I could help.”

“Thank you.” Your eyes met, and as he went to take the picture from you, your hands brushed again and this time he didn’t pull away, lingering. He took a step closer to you and your heart started to pick up, you wondered if he was going to kiss you? How could you get this lucky?

“Really,” he said, and his eyes were luminous even with the dark circles of his jetlag. 

“Well, thanks for not making me go to look at Buckingham Palace,” you said, trying to keep your cool.

“Wait, that’s not next on the list?” You smiled and he smiled back. The tension was becoming unbearable, you felt like you should say or do something to break it but it was also incredibly delicious as you gazed into his dark eyes. After a moment, he took the photograph and put it and his camera carefully back in his backpack. You thought that was it - but then he turned back to you, put his hand on your waist and leaned in and kissed you, completely sure of himself and probably the sexiest thing that had ever happened to you. You responded immediately and enjoyed the feeling of his soft, full lips on yours as it felt like the world stopped around you. When he pulled away you just stared at him and saw that he was blushing, biting his lip again.

“I- sorry, I just-“

“That’s OK,” you said softly.

“I’m just gonna blame the jet-lag.”

You leaned in then and kissed him, and he folded you in his strong arms. It was only when some passing construction workers walked by and wolf whistled at the sight of your embrace that you both broke away, laughing.

“So I’m gonna take you for that lunch now,” Dave said, taking your hand which felt completely right. “And maybe while we’re doing that I can persuade you to come check out my vulgar American rock n roll band’s show tomorrow.”

You smiled. “You can try,” you said teasingly, but truthfully there was nothing you wanted to do more.

“But first-“ He fumbled for the camera in his bag again and took it out, aiming the viewfinder at you as you looked at him shyly, “Say cheese.”


End file.
